Are you really trying to cultivate immortality? Something feels off.

"Master," the subordinate said, his fingertips pressed against the woman's neck, looking up, "the Second Steward is dead."

Xian Beiyu didn't react much, but a faint doubt appeared in his eyes as he looked up at the stronghold littered with corpses.

He was at the Nascent Soul stage, and his skin and flesh were incredibly tough, beyond what ordinary people could imagine. Even ordinary magical artifacts couldn't get close to him easily, yet this thing could make him feel numb and itchy.

What is it? A magical artifact? A Gu worm? A magic weapon?

Blood Moon Hall was already severely weakened, with all its core members killed at the Nie residence. Now, with only an incense stick's time left before the signal fireworks exploded, how could they possibly have killed everyone so easily in such a short time?

It seems this thing is to blame.

"Master," the subordinate said, frowning after searching the woman's body for a moment, "the spirit tablet you gave to the Second Deacon is missing."

Xian Beiyu responded indifferently, "Wanyue?"

His eyelashes drooped, casting shadows that concealed the emotions in his eyes, leaving only indifference.

"Master," the subordinate said, approaching quickly with a black cat in his arms, "here."

Xian Beiyu's eyelids twitched. He took the cat from his hands, carefully held it in his arms, and examined its body closely.

He sensed a distinct spiritual energy within the creature in his arms that did not belong to him, and his fingertips paused slightly.

"Nourishing all things, the lion of the Azure Waters..." Xian Beiyu slowly spoke, a sneer escaping from his nose, "Heh, interesting."

*

"What's the point..." Feng Jilan sat in the Hall of Longevity, sighing deeply. "What's the point of living like this anymore..."

Feng Yu sat to one side, his lips twitching: "What are you doing?"

"He misses his precious disciple, huh?" Fu Yao leaned back in her chair, her feet propped up on the back, half-lying in a rather strange position. "Take it easy, senior brother. A son grows up and is no longer under his mother's control. It's not something you can decide."

"Who gave you permission to speak?" Feng Jilan glared at her. "I haven't even settled accounts with you for your misdeeds at Ten Thousand Swords Mountain, and Yuan Heng has already complained to me, saying you were going to blow up his Night Water Abyss. Can't you give our sect any face?"

"I was just joking and threatening him. I was so heartbroken at the time, thinking I was going to have to collect Xiaoshui's body. I didn't have time to keep inviting him around. In the end, all I got was a cauldron, and he even complained. He's so petty," Fu Yao clicked her tongue. "Besides, when it comes to blowing up mountains, it was clearly you, Senior Brother, who blew up the most back then, okay?"

"you--"

Feng Jilan was about to slap her twice.

"Master—Father—"

"Master!"

"Master, senior uncles, and junior uncles—we're back—"

Exuberant shouts echoed across the summit of Fenghua Sect, while hurried footsteps rapidly approached.

Feng Jilan's eyes lit up. Just as he stood up, a small green whirlwind flew in first.

"Master!"

The familiar scent of herbs drew near, and Feng Jilan was suddenly embraced by Shen Chunri.

"Hey," he beamed, hugging his disciple, "you're back?"

"Master Uncle—" A small purple whirlwind rushed in after her, quickly pounced on Feng Yu behind her, "I really grasped that move you taught me, it's so amazing, so incredibly amazing, I'll demonstrate it for you next time I have time..."

"Okay, okay," Feng Yu turned his head to dodge, seemingly terrified of being bombed. "Stand still, stand still."

Yu Xintang, however, kept tugging at his clothes and babbling on for a long time before finally getting slapped across the face.

Oh.

Xie Weixing walked in with Tan Suiting in his arms, twirling the sword tassel in his other hand, and raised his hand to greet them.

Nie Zhao, dressed in red, walked in slowly with his arms crossed, and finally stood in the center of the Hall of Longevity.

Fu Yao stood up and hugged her tightly: "Your senior uncle has already told us about the Nie family's affairs."

"Mm," Nie Zhao responded, raising his hand to pat her shoulder.

"Uncle-Master," Shen Chunri said, still clinging to Feng Jilan's neck, acting disrespectfully, "how do you know what happened at the Nie residence?"

Feng Yu sat down and drank tea, his slender fingers gently holding the white porcelain cup. He parted his thin lips and blew on the scalding tea: "Ah Zhao reports to the sect every day using a voice transmission talisman, unlike you, who forget everything once you leave the sect."

Shen Chunri chuckled twice.

"Still laughing?" Feng Jilan slapped her on the head, then snapped at her, "I'm talking to you! You went out and had a blast without even letting your family know you were safe!"

He pointed at each of them one by one with his fingers: "You! You! And you!"

Shen Chunri covered his head and squatted down, hissing in pain for a long time, wanting to cry but not daring to.

Yu Xintang obediently lowered her head, keeping her eyes down and not saying a word.

Tan Suiting pursed his lips and looked to the side, pretending not to have heard.

Xie Weixing looked back, his leg shaking, like a little hooligan, his eyes filled with provocation.

You old geezer, I haven't even settled accounts with you yet, and you still dare to set up blind dates for his little dragon.

Feng Jilan slapped him on the butt: "You dare show off again?"

"Master, don't hit him..." Tan Suiting frowned and pulled the person behind him.

Xie Weixing clutched his backside and cried out, leaning against Tan Suiting beside him: "Damn it... old man, you're going to beat me to death."

"Master," Tan Suiting raised his hand to hug him protectively, his expression very serious, "How can you hit people so casually? You can't do that."

"I only hit you once," Feng Jilan said, amused. "Are you trying to rebel? You haven't been hit often enough to remember the force, have you?"

He then raised his hand, and another palm strike landed squarely on Tan Suiting's buttocks without hesitation.

"Hiss." Tan Suiting's nose twitched slightly, his brows furrowed, and he tilted his head and frowned.

"You're hitting a minor!" Xie Weixing yelled, hugging Tan Suiting. "You old geezer, look what's left in your little kitchen! I won't leave you a single grain of rice! I'm never talking to you again!"

"Say one more for me..."

"Alright, alright," Fu Yao reached out to stop Feng Jilan. "They grew up together since they were little. Don't you know that Xiaolong is Xie Weixing's darling? You can hit him, but if you hit Xiaolong, he'll definitely get angry with you."

The two of them were embracing each other like a pair of star-crossed lovers. Feng Jilan felt sorry for them, but something still felt off. In the end, she withdrew her hands, sat back down, and took a breath.

Nie Zhao stepped forward helplessly and handed over a cup of tea: "Don't argue with them, Master. They're still just children."

Feng Jilan took the tea, took a sip, and found it to be at the perfect temperature.

His fingers paused slightly, and he looked up, his eyes filled with complex emotions of tenderness and pity.

"Ah Zhao," Feng Jilan raised his hand, gesturing for her to come closer, "Come here."

Nie Zhao paused for a moment, looked around and saw that there were no other seats, so she squatted down next to his legs.

Just like when she was a child, when Feng Jilan was handling sect affairs, teaching Xiaolong sword moves, or disciplining Shen Chunri who had once again blown himself up and left covered in dust, she would squat next to her master, holding a small iron sword in her hand, hugging her knees, and listening quietly.

My uncle said she was the quietest and most sensible child he had ever met.